


This Time is The Charm

by Arin93



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Mind Manipulation, No Beta, Other, POV First Person, Self-Insert, Self-Insert into Canon Character, Slavery, Unreliable Narrator, lack of agency
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:53:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22097434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arin93/pseuds/Arin93
Summary: Everything was perfectly normal for the decidedly not normal Malfoy family.That is, until the young child of the house fell off his broom while playing in the skies.---Self-Insert as Draco Malfoy.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 86





	1. The Vanishing Memory

**Author's Note:**

> So I finally gave in and posted a fanfic, a self-insert one because there are not enough of those, right?
> 
> I'm posting as I write and I cannot guarantee a steady schedule i think. We'll see shall we?
> 
> Will probably add tags as I go along and I guess the violence and stuff to warn about will be about the same level as canon (which is teen and up?)  
> Don't know where this is going and it's absolutely self indulgent crap.

The sun illuminated the tall white manor and the gardens spreading around it. White peacocks meandered peacefully, waiting for unsuspecting victims to go near them.

Everything was perfectly normal for the decidedly not normal Malfoy family.

That is, until the young child of the house fell off his broom while playing in the skies.

* * *

  
  
When I open my eyes, I find myself in a stupidly big room.

"My son, you’re awake. Thank you, thank you."

I freeze when arms surround me and the person embracing me retreats.

"How do you feel Draco? " turning her head, the beautiful blonde woman addresses someone out of view "Slinky, fetch the healer."

I hear a distinct popping sound, not long after I hear some footsteps and the door opens. An imposing man with long platinum blond hair enters the room followed by another man.

This all was a bit overwhelming. I had the brief impulse of just lying down and hiding under the sheets but settled for just bringing a hand, _a small hand_ , up to my head.

"Mr. Malfoy do you feel any dizziness?" asks who I assume is the healer.

"No" I answer with an unfamiliar voice.

I feel like I should be dizzy though.

"Good. I’m now going to cast some diagnostic spells on you Mr. Malfoy." He pulls a stick, _a wand_ , out of somewhere and points it at me then proceeds to, I guess, say some incantations.

Diagnostic spells… what exactly is that going to show? Because I’m beginning to think those two holding discretely onto each other while watching the healer work his magic are Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy worrying about their son, Draco Malfoy.

And that son might be me? But _I am not Draco Malfoy._

I squirm in the bed and the feel of the sheets almost startles me. They are so soft, what the hell, I’ve never been in such soft bedding.

Never mind the colourful sparks coming out of the wand **W.A.N.D** in front of me.

The man with the wand, harrumphs and hums, and then the colour show comes to an end.

"Mr. Malfoy, what is the last thing you remember?"

I, of course, come to a blank on how to answer that. How can I say I barely remember falling into exhausted sleep in my ADULT body who was **NOT DRACO MALFOY??**

"Could you tell me your name and age?"

"Draco Malfoy"- oh gods, I am not. "…10? " I say while I cross my fingers mentally, hoping my guess isn’t too far and they can’t tell exactly how much I’m bullshitting right now.

As in, I’m really not Draco Malfoy but let’s just pretend I am for the moment.

I must, unfortunately, be wrong in my estimation because Narcissa let's out the softest breath in the suddenly quiet room. Dread fills me while looking at her even paler countenance. Somehow I feel absurdly responsible for it.

"I see, that’s what I was afraid of" and whatever that fear is must be nothing on what the Malfoy parents are feeling, because I can almost hear their hearts stop for a moment.

Then Lucius takes a step away from his wife and turns to the doctor, healer, in an imposing manner.

" _Explain_."

The healer must be able to tell from that one word he’s on thin ice because he immediately begins to speak with what I suppose is his most accomodating voice.

"Lord Malfoy, as you know your son fell off his broom and hit his head. Now, while young Malfoy is fully healed and back in perfect health, his brain did receive a serious wound and you could say that wound left a scar when it healed. While there isn’t any cognitive damage, it seems the trauma has affected his memory. This is not unusual and might fade with time."

" _ **Might?**_ This is unacceptable!" 

"Please Lord Malfoy, let us first ascertain how much Mr Malfoy has been set back in his memories. " he turns towards me "Mr. Malfoy, do not fret and please tell us honestly what is the last thing you remember."

I look at the scenery I can see from the window. The trees are lush with green, it must be one of the warmer months.

Considering I already guessed my age wrong I might as well be a bit honest here.

"It was January." I can almost feel their dismay even though I’m still looking towards the windows. Then begin the accusations. However, before Lucius can get too into it, Narcissa says his name in a forbidding tone and soon after the two men leave the room.

By this point, I’m beginning to accept this for reality, as bizarre as it might be.

_I’m also scared shitless._

The woman, Narcissa, sits once again in the chair that was next to the bed. She puts her hand on mine and I finally look into her eyes. She looks heartbreakingly worried, any thoughts of coming completely clean and explaining I’m not actually her son come to a swift death upon seeing her expression.

I can’t do this to her. I doubt she would even believe me; it would just worry her more.

I resolve to lie to her and everyone else right then and there.

"Mother, what’s the date? " I ask in a pathetic whisper.

She squeezes my hand.

"It's July, the 17th." Her other hand comes up to brush some stray blonde hairs away from my face and she shushes me as tears begin to fall down my face "It will be alright son. You heard the healer, you’re perfectly healthy and will remember soon enough."

I lean a bit into the touch and hum an agreement while closing my eyes.

Ok, ok. This is fine, magic is real, my ( _my?_ ) current body hasn't gone through puberty, and I know next to nothing about Draco Malfoy's life until this point. _Probably just being spoilt rotten and absorbing bigotry from his parents._

I'm, _somehow_ , in a strange and familiar fantasy world and magic is real. And who knows what else. 

I’m beginning to gather my wits now, I suspect this is the summer before Draco’s, and Harry’s, first Hogwarts year. Which would mean.

"Did it arrive? My letter?"

Narcissa smiles.

"Not yet, but it must not be far off from arriving."

So, it _is_ before the first year after all. That's...not too bad.

Then I almost pout, which somehow seems to cheer my companion up.

Sure, laugh at my misery, here I am just thrust into a very disorienting, jarring and frankly traumatizing situation and I cannot even get the satisfaction of finally getting my Hogwarts letter. I had been living in a world with no magic (that I knew of) for 26 years, the least you could do is hook me up with the manifestation of a childhood dream.

I mean, sure, I'm _Here;_ and I've already had a wand pointed at me but it would be nice to have physical proof in my ( _mine?_ ) own two hands.

Just something to hold onto. 

I must have begun crying again because, once more, Narcissa reassures me.

"Everything is going to be alright"


	2. The Letter to Not Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There were times in which some word or gesture would cast the illusion that all was well again and young Malfoy’s mind mended. 
> 
> It was far from healed though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That took longer than I meant, whoops. 
> 
> I changed a couple things in last chapter, setting wise I just changed the date (it was June now it's set in July), the rest was tiny stuff to give nuance and formatting (I feel like I might keep messing around with formatting).

Somehow, I spent this last week sequestered to my room and bedrest, my meals appearing before me magically.

Anyone would think that I was suffering from some grave illness but I wasn’t even sore. Not that I would have said anything about my good health, as it was the perfect excuse to avoid scrutiny and buy myself some time.

Or just plain hiding, really.

That time was over now though. I’m expected at breakfast today. Slinky, a house elf Narcissa has summoned before, told me.

The presence of this house elf has made me a bit wary, because, where is Dobby?

Could the Malfoys have more than one house elf? Or are things here different from what I remember in the books?

I wish I could ask about Dobby as plainly as I can ask the mirror inside the walk-in armoire if my clothes are good.

“Young Master looks like the proper Heir of House Malfoy.”

I would be extremely lost without this mirror because there is not a single jean in sight and it's full of unfamiliar clothing. The inside is also bigger than my old room, expansion charm, I guess.

_Magic is great._

I step into the bathroom and slick my hair back, Malfoy style.

At the very least I can look the part.

“Young Master is looking dashing as always!” gushes the bathroom mirror. For some reason it’s much more energetic than the armoire one.

But I do look dashing for an eleven-year-old. Pointy face for the win.

I look at my face this way and that other way and smirk in satisfaction.

Let’s hope the coming years are kind.

Prepared as I will ever be, which is, not at all, I step outside the room for the first time.

The corridor is reminiscent of a hotel. As in, it looks fucking endless both ways. I have absolutely no idea which way to go.

Movement from a portrait catches my eye, and I turn to face the painting of what must be a Malfoy ancestor.

“Took you long enough to come out of that room.” he says with outright distaste on his face.

Rude. He isn’t wrong but, ouch.

Not knowing what else to do, I ignore the painting with all the aplomb at my disposal and begin walking leftward. To my dismay I notice way too many paintings with human depictions on the walls. All of them watching my passing, with some frames looking awfully cramped.

They’ve been waiting for this it seems. Must be lacking in entertainment.

None of these say anything directly to me but they sure whisper to their companions and it’s all I can do to keep walking forward without tripping.

Thank fuck for small mercies because I do find a staircase, and from there I’m guided by the smell of something delicious.

“Good morning dear, I hope you’re feeling better today” greets Narcissa when I enter the room.

“Good morning, I’m feeling…fine” I answer, my face frozen with indecision on whether to smile or not.

While Narcissa Malfoy has visited me every day to check on me, it hasn’t clued me in any on how to act around her.

The thing is, I don’t think it’s just on my part, I feel like something is holding Malfoy Jr’s mother back.

Worry? Sure. Guilt from the accident somehow?

“Will you-” the sharp voice abruptly cuts off and I look at the other occupant of the room.

Lucius Malfoy looks as cold and menacing as he did the first time I saw him a week ago.

He seems to be having what looks like a stare off with Narcissa.

The tense moment stretches until Lucius opens a newspaper with moving pictures in it. 

I look back towards Narcissa, who smiles at me, and I decide to just sit down and focus on the appetizing food on the table.

Things might not be ok in the Malfoy household.

I would like to say not my business but…I'm wearing Malfoy skin now, and living here, so I guess it might be.

Whatever it is, it doesn’t change the fact breakfast is delicious. We eat in uninterrupted silence for some time until Lucius puts the newspaper aside.

“Slinky,” said elf appears almost instantaneously “bring the mail.”

With a snap of her fingers a small pile of letters materializes on the table. There’s a few for Lucius, a couple for Narcissa, and another one waiting in front of me.

As I gently pick it up, I hear somewhere in the background “I see it has finally arrived.”

**Mr D. Malfoy**

**The Green Room in the West Wing**

**Malfoy Manor**

**The Malfoy Estate**

**Wiltshire**

For how thick it is it feels extremely light. I tighten my grip, scared that it might float away like many things do around here.

It was really written in a brilliant emerald colour, which more than made up for the creepy factor of the address including the exact room I sleep in and you know, _not actually being addressed to me._

That and Hogwarts! I’m going to Hogwarts! Who cares if it’s under bizarre circumstances with a possible war on the horizon?

Magic is real!!

This realization never gets old.

_And it is so much easier to focus on it than everything else._

(See: Where the hell is Dobby?)

I open the envelope with shaky fingers which I hope no one else notices.

The letter says:

_"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr Malfoy,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been **accepted** **at** **Hogwarts** Scho-"_

I read through it twice then examine the list in detail. Without looking up from it I demand confidently,

“When are we getting my things?”

And promptly look up with an inaudible gulp. I didn’t mean to just ask like that.

Narcissa though, is _smiling_ , and Lucius has a complicated look in his eyes but doesn’t look exactly displeased.

“I believe next Tuesday we both have time, isn’t that right dear?” asks Narcissa. Though I get the feeling there wasn’t much asking in that question.

“Yes, I believe that’s right.”

And it’s decided, next week to Diagon Alley!

I soon excuse myself when I see they have become distracted with their schedules.

And it isn’t too soon, because the strange tension comes back while they’re talking about a standing appointment. A tea party or something.

Any intention I might have had of eavesdropping for details is ruined when I pass through the doorway and the conversation becomes abruptly unintelligible.

Fucking magic.

But I grin and make my way back to my room. I will eventually deal with it if it’s something that concerns me anyway.

“Congratulations young Master Malfoy” say some of the paintings.

This time the portraits don’t bother me as much but, it does stop me from peeking in the different doors. As much as I would like to get a better lay of the land, it would look weird, and I’m not sure how much autonomy portraits have. Certainly enough to comment and congratulate me for the Hogwarts letter.

_…And also critique my somewhat long reclusion._

I side eye Malfoy Ancestor who’s looking at me impassively and just enter the room.

_Did it have to be this intimidating portrait just outside the room I’m staying at??_

I checked, and it did look like it’s his own frame, well, there was no one else in it to begin with.

Armand Malfoy, said the plate, but my Malfoy family tree knowledge only goes up to Abraxas Malfoy.

And even that might be wrong.

I swallow past the lump in my throat, the joy from the Hogwarts letter forgotten.

The meal might have gone decently, if strained silence is considered decent, but it doesn’t change my current situation any.

I have no idea how the Malfoys would react to the truth. Not happy is my best guess, so I have no intention of finding out.

I glance at the parchment still in my hand.

As it is, my best chance is Hogwarts.

Make it past this summer without them finding out and then freedom. Boarding school most of the year, new environment and teenage rebellion should be enough to account for the differences in behaviour… I hope.

_Free to live my life as Draco Malfoy._

Is that it? Is this now my life?

I can’t help but stare at my unfamiliar hand. It doesn’t feel any different from my previous hand.

I rub my brow and stave off an existential crisis.

I have another, more important, crisis to avert. Like, the possible imminent war.

I have thought long and hard about it this past week, and there’s no way I can just let that happen without doing anything.

It just wouldn’t be _Me._

And war sounds unpleasant to say the least. I like my peaceful days just fine, thank you very much, I’m not meant for high stress situations ( _haha..ha_ ).

So, other than Surviving the Malfoys, I just need to Stop Lord Voldemort from Coming Back.

Easy peasy.

I mean, maybe it could be?

If my knowledge is reliable, I just need to stop Peter Pettigrew and Barty Crouch Jr from reuniting with Voldemort. _Just that._

Whatever, I have three years to figure out the _How_ and I should have access to Pettigrew at least.

_Never mind that they’re full fledged wizards, I have the element of surprise, right?_

I stop myself short of biting my nails and clutch my hands behind my back without stopping my pacing.

There’s also Quirrell and the diary to take into account.

The diary should be easy enough to stop if I get my hands on it before any other student, and it should be in this house.

Quirrellmort is more complicated. It’s hard to tell in how much danger the Philosopher’s stone was from being stolen. Maybe if Harry hadn’t gone down the 3rd floor corridor the stone would have never left the mirror. And it’s hard to believe Dumbledore wasn’t on top of the situation, to be honest.

Of course, all this is based on a children’s book and fan speculation.

I look forlornly towards the bureau. I really wish I could write some of these thoughts down. Make a list.

It’s too dangerous. My knowledge could be dangerous and there’s no way I can leave it on an unprotected paper.

It’s bad enough knowing people could probably lift it off my unprotected mind with just looking into my eyes.

Just... something more to worry about.

I flop down on the bed.

_Fucking magic._

* * *

> _“Is Master Draco wanting his story now?” said the elf with a smile. “It is Harry Potter and the mermaid kingdom? The great Harry Potter against the Giant attack? Or it is-“_
> 
> _“Harry Potter and the Welsh Green!” I demanded and Dobby’s smile widened._

I open my eyes.

My face feels uncomfortable from being pressed up against A History of Magic.

I sit up, rub my face and look around.

I’m still in Malfoy’s room and body, and it’s dark outside.

With a thoughtless gesture the lamps turn on and the clock shows it’s midnight.

Must have fallen asleep while reading. This bed is too comfortable.

My mind turns to what I was dreaming about.

It didn’t feel like a dream though, I’m 100% sure that was something that has happened. A memory from something I never lived through.

 _ **I know**_ Dobby exists.

Without thinking twice about it I call out to him like I’ve done it many times before.

“Dobby”

…

I wait, but.

Nothing moves in the room.

I pull the blanket up to my shoulders while I scrutinize every corner. But there’s nothing there.

Something in my chest clenches.

Maybe Dobby is just sleeping?

I lie back down but it’s a long time until I fall asleep, a feeling of dread keeping me from rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there you have it. Writing fanfic really makes you think about canon in ways you never thought of, I feel like I could go so many ways. Whatever it is, I know that I wanna mess with canon hehehhe.
> 
> Idk how long I have been editing this what the hell, i hate formatting (how do i formaatt), how many times and in how many ways must I read my own words ugh.


End file.
